


Comfort

by telperion_15



Series: Comfort [1]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Episode Tag, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-15
Updated: 2012-03-15
Packaged: 2017-11-02 00:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan offers Connor someone to talk to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Episode tag to (and therefore spoilers for) episode 1.04.

Watching Connor Temple sitting alone and isolated on the front row of seats, Ryan sighed. The death of his friend had hit the young man hard, and Ryan knew it would take more than a hug from the professor to put things right again.

But the soldier wasn’t sure what more he could contribute to Connor’s recovery. The Special Forces men had tended to keep themselves separate from the civilian team, and consequently none of them had really got to know Cutter and the others.

Maybe that was something that should be rectified.

Ryan knew what it was like to lose people close to you. He’d been in the military long enough to accept that – although not get used to it. He didn’t think a person could ever get used to their friends dying.

And for someone like Connor, who previously to the anomaly project had probably _never_ experienced death – well, Ryan figured he was probably one of the only people around here who had an inkling of what the young man was feeling right now. And maybe that was what Connor needed – someone who understood.

Ryan headed down the stairs and edged his way along the row of seats to where Connor was staring out over the football pitch. He sat down quietly next to the young man, and then waited for a few seconds to see if he would be acknowledged.

But Connor just continued to gaze absently out over the smooth green turf. Although Ryan couldn’t help but notice that his eyes kept flicking downwards to the spot where his friend had died.

“Connor?” he said eventually.

No response.

“Connor? Come on, mate, it’s time to go. You can’t do any more here.”

“I couldn’t do anything at all.” The words were low and bitter, and Ryan felt an unexpected sadness tug at his heart at the discovery that Connor Temple could sound so defeated, so weary.

“Come on,” Ryan repeated. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll buy you a drink, and we can talk.”

It wasn’t what he’d intended to say, but the genuine surprise on Connor’s face, pulling him from his stupor and making him turn to face Ryan, meant the soldier couldn’t regret saying it.

“Why?” said Connor

“Why what?”

“Why would _you_ want to talk to me?”

“Because you need someone to talk _to_ ,” responded Ryan. “And I’m better than no one.”

“What about…Tom?”

“Lester’s people will take his body to a secure facility where they can perform an autopsy.”

Connor flinched, and Ryan mentally kicked himself for his tactlessness. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “You didn’t need to hear that. But it’ll be a few days before the funeral takes place. There’s nothing you can do at the moment.” He paused. “So, how about that drink?”

Connor nodded. “Okay.”

*   *   *   *   *

Ryan laughed as Connor finished the tale about his friend, his hands waving around in his enthusiasm.

“And then, just as he thought he might finally have made some progress, one of his Vulcan ears fell off and landed in her drink, splattering her costume with red wine!”

“And…?”

“And she slapped him and walked off! Apparently it was quite an expensive costume…”

Connor was laughing too, and Ryan was glad. He was far too young to be so hit by tragedy.

But gradually, as they brought their chuckles under control, Connor’s laughter died into a sad smile.

“You know, earlier today I thought I’d never laugh again,” he said quietly. Then he grimaced. “Sorry. That sounded a bit melodramatic, didn’t it?”

“Not at all. I know what death can do to a person.”

Connor looked like he was about to question that statement further, but then appeared to think better of it. Secretly, Ryan was grateful. He didn’t want to have to rehash some of the happenings of his past with this young man, and even if he wasn’t aware of it, Connor _really_ didn’t want to hear about them.

“Thank you for this, Captain Ryan,” Connor said instead. “I didn’t realise how much I needed it.” Then a slightly puzzled look came over his face. “It feels odd to call you Captain Ryan, considering the circumstances. What’s your first name? If you don’t mind telling me,” he amended hastily.

Ah. This was going to be difficult. “It’s…Tom,” Ryan said slowly.

“Oh.”

“But most people call me Ryan anyway,” he added quickly. “It’s fine.”

Connor appeared to be lost in his thoughts for a few moments, and Ryan wondered whether he should have told him. Although it was hard to see how he could have avoided it.

“I think…I’d like to call you Tom,” said Connor eventually. “If that’s okay?” He looked nervous, and Ryan smiled reassuringly.

“Of course that’s okay,” he said. “I’m honoured.”

Connor’s face twisted a little, and he turned away. “I wish he hadn’t died,” he said quietly.

“Of course you do,” replied Ryan, equally softly. “But you did everything you could. It wasn’t your fault, and Tom knew that. He wouldn’t want you to feel guilty. And he wouldn’t want you to walk away.”

“That’s pretty much what the professor said,” Connor acknowledged.

“And he was right,” Ryan said firmly. “Don’t forget your friend, Connor. But don’t use his death as a reason to ruin your life.”

Connor smiled. It was a pale imitation of his usual enthusiastic grin, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Okay,” he said. “I won’t.”

“Good.”

“Thank you,” said Connor again. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I did. And more than that – I wanted to.”

“Maybe…” Connor hesitated. “Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

Ryan placed a comforting hand over Connor’s where it lay on the table. “I’d like that.”


End file.
